where was this True Love supposed to pop up? Between her and…
“Hello?” the cute cop interrupted. “If you’re done playing cards, I need to talk to you.”
Him? She gulped. Those beautiful blue eyes were staring at her, burning more steadily than all eleven candles. Her heart started to thump, beating to the most bizarre rhythm. True love. True love. True love. She felt all tingly, and her face was flushed with heat. What was wrong with her?
It was probably just the effect of too many aromatic candles, infecting her brain. Or maybe she’d hit her head harder than she realized. There was no romantic glow here at all. Just smoke and humidity.
She fanned herself with the two of hearts, using her other hand to pluck the neckline of her damp leotard away from her skin. Anything to generate some air. Cool down, chill out, she told herself. But she didn’t feel remotely cool or chilly.
Especially when his gaze seemed to catch and hold there on her chest. His eyes widened. She swallowed, surreptitiously casting a quick look down to see what he was staring at. Overheated Zoë. Wet leotard. Breasts that might as well have been bare in that thin, moist top, her nipples peaking against the slippery, wet fabric.
Uh-oh. She dropped the True Love card like a shot, kicking it out of the way as she quickly wrapped her arms over her front and turned away.
She was not, as it happened, all that shy about her body. She was used to leading her dance class in a skimpy leotard all the time. But this felt different. It felt like…dancing naked in front of a complete stranger. Even worse, it felt like dancing naked, totally on purpose and with one seductive reason, in front of your lover.
She couldn’t handle it. Pulling her top out in front, hoping she looked nonchalant, she unstuck it and flapped it harder, trying to dry herself off. But when she hazarded a glance back around at him, his gaze met hers, blazing like a beacon, and it was like, Pow! Kazam! Major meltdown happening here!
What the…?
Sometimes she had feelings about people, or even a little intuition, but nothing as overwhelming and hot as this. She didn’t just get an aura from him. No, this was like a laser beam, searing her all the way to the soul. I know him, she thought, shocked at the very idea. I know him!
He blinked, looking just as surprised as she was. Jake. One minute she had no idea who he was, and the next his name was right there in her brain, clear as day. His name was Jake. How did she know that?
Zoë took a step backward. This couldn’t be happening. One tarot card did not a lover make. And yet there was some kind of cosmic attraction going on here, and they both knew it.
She wasn’t used to this instant-electricity thing. She wasn’t used to looking at a guy for five minutes, thinking about laser beams and naked dancing, and totally wanting to jump him.
She was coming undone.
“Oh, dear! Well, I, uh…” She put a hand to her forehead, attempting to find something else in the room that needed her attention. But there wasn’t anything there. “The candles…it’s so hot in here. Maybe it’s the candles.”
Behind her, he cleared his throat. “You really should blow those out,” he said stiffly. “They’re a fire hazard.”
As she moved to blow out the nearest two, she stopped, glancing at him over her shoulder, her gaze skittering away again. She tried to make a joke, anything to puncture this bizarre mood. “So tell me, did you come here to bust me for excess candle burning?”
“No, actually, I came because…” He stopped. Sounding even more unsettled than she felt, he continued, “I’m looking for Zoë Kidd. Is that you?”
“Yes. But I didn’t…” She was planning on saying she didn’t have any reason to need a police officer when it hit her.
If there was a cop looking for her, there could only be one reason. Her shoulders slumped. Wylie. He’d probably run up a few too many parking tickets again. The very thought of Wylie was like a pitcher of cold water poured over her head.
Wylie equaled bad taste in men. Wylie equaled terrible judgment. Wylie equaled defeat.
After quickly dousing the remaining candles, Zoë went back to pick up the rest of her tarot cards, trying hard to ignore Mr. Cute Cop. She made a point of retrieving the two of hearts and jamming it back into the middle of the pack before she stacked the whole deck neatly on the bookshelf. “If this is about Wylie, I broke up with him almost a month ago. Any trouble he’s in is his problem, not mine. So if he said I would bail him—”
“No, it has nothing to do with him. I need you.”
Yeah, well, I need you, too, Jake. I dumped my boyfriend. I’m lonely. I’m bored. And you are one good-looking man.
Looking over at him, trying to make herself behave, she still felt that incredible heat. She still felt like stripping naked and leaping into his arms. She licked her bottom lip. I need you for a few good rolls on my sticky mat…
“What did you say?”
“Me? Nothing. Not a thing.” What, could he hear her thoughts now? His name suddenly popped into her head as if it always been there and now he could mind-read? This was getting spooky. She stuck a stray tendril of her hair back into the braids wrapped over the top of her head. “And what did you need with me?”
“Okay. Right. Let’s just…cut to the chase.”
He clenched his jaw, and she thought, Wow, that is one nice jaw. Do you think he would care if I touched it? before she regained the use of her brain and paid attention to his words again. Concentrate, Zoë. Concentrate. Why was it so incredibly hot in this room?
“You booked a place on the Explorer’s Journey, right?”
Zoë blinked. “You’re here because of the Explorer’s Journey?”
“The travel agency said the roster is full,” he explained. “I want to buy your spot.”
“You want to…?” He didn’t seem like the type. At all. But then she got the picture. Talk about your pitcher of cold water.
Zoë was not a stupid woman. She saw the handwriting on the wall. Mr. Cute Cop obviously had a Mrs. Cute Cop stashed at home, and the two of them wanted to go on the Explorer’s Journey. Newlyweds only, after all. Newlyweds who wanted to work on their communication skills, both in and out of bed. Given Mr. Cute Cop’s rather terse communication skills, as well as the heat emanating from his hard body, she could see why Mrs. Cute Cop would feel the need to take him on that particular trip.
“So you’ll sell me your ticket?” he asked.
“Sure,” she declared, trying to work up some enthusiasm.
Shaking her head, she rose from the floor, crossing to the desk where she’d stuck the travel packet. How silly was she? She’d gone from entertaining the mad notion that he was her karmic one-and-only True Love to figuring out he was someone else’s new husband, all in three seconds. So much for her psychic visions. She knew his name. How come she didn’t get the married part?
She glanced up. Funny, he wasn’t wearing a ring. And she did not get a married vibe from him at all, especially
